


Wurstwärmer

by jambees221b



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Decisions made on a whim, Fluff, M/M, New talent needs practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-03 14:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10969644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jambees221b/pseuds/jambees221b
Summary: Arthur adds a new member to the team, while Eames develops a new skill.Written for Inceptimals 2017





	Wurstwärmer

Arthur never meant to impose a new member on the team. The latest, very unexpected addition was met with various levels of enthusiasm. Yusuf may not have even noticed. Cobb met Arthur’s eyes with a disapproving glare. Ariadne’s squeal probably gave them permanent noise-induced hearing loss. Eames immediately grabbed the new hire, put it on his knees and started petting it. 

While he didn’t broadcast it to the four winds, Arthur had always had a weak spot for dogs. This job in Rome was both a blessing and a curse. There were dogs in each and every back alley they crossed. This morning, on his way to the flat they had repurposed as home base for the duration of the job, an old dachshund followed him. The stray’s nose was completely white, betraying his age. He trotted along with Arthur, his backside swaying at the end of his long body, never leaving his side for the entire kilometer separating his hotel from the flat. Once at the door, the point man bent down to scratch his new friend behind the ears and bid him farewell. His gesture was met with enthusiastic hand licking. With a sad smile, he stood up and opened the door, wishing he could adopt this cute fellow. 

The moment the door started opening, the dachshund rushed inside, prompting Ariadne’s squeal and Eames’ appropriation of his dog. His dog? When did the stray become his?

He couldn’t keep a smile off his face while watching Ariadne cooing “Who’s a good boy? Give me your paw. Yes! Good boy!” and Eames flipping the wiener dog around to rub his belly.

“What the hell, Arthur?” muttered Cobb as he joined him to watch the scene. “Keeping us in check is not enough work for you, now you need a stray dog roaming around? Get it out of the flat.”

“ _He_ is not getting out,” he heard himself say. Cobb’s face reflected the surprise he felt himself after uttering those words. Making a split-second decision, he addressed the team. “Guys, meet Cannoli. He’s my dog.”

Cobb just groaned and walked away.

***

According to Cobb, Cannoli should be renamed Manipolatore. Very quickly, the dog developed the habit of being on someone’s lap at all times. When someone refused to give him a hand up, he waddled to another team member until someone picked him up. When kept waiting, he even shook, nestled against a human leg, trying to attract sympathy. 

Fortunately, the other members of the team did not share Dom’s views. “Stop whining, Cobb,” Eames said on the third day, petting the dog on Arthur’s lap while walking past them. “Who knows how much time the wee thing spent all alone in the streets. He can get all the comfort he wants, as far as I’m concerned.”

A week after Arthur adopted the dachshund, Eames walked in one morning with an enormous box, setting it beside the sofa he commandeered as his workstation. He left it alone for several hours, eliciting a great amount of curiosity from Ariadne. Arthur focused on the task at hand, all but forgetting about the parcel. 

He noticed while picking up at the end of the day that the box had been opened, and Eames could now be found fiddling in a corner of the flat, five tiny sticks and a huge mess of multicolored fiber in his hands.

Was he… knitting?!? 

Well… He’s got a dog, Eames picked up knitting. Who was he to judge?

During the next few days, he devoted all his downtime to his needles, alternating between staring intently at his phone and trying in earnest to replicate… something. Unfortunately, the focus on his face did not translate in success in his hands. 

The soft rumbles of his voice whispering gibberish became a lulling background noise in the flat. “Knit, knit, purl, purl. Knit, knit, purl, purl. Move marker. Knit, knit, purl -- aaahh what did I do wrong, again?” The now familiar popping sound of stitches being undone resonated once more. It was the seventh time today he had started over. Not that Arthur was counting, or anything.

He looked up, expecting a least some kind of frustration on his face. Nope. He was sporting a fetching expression, tongue sticking out in apparent attention. Eames making a huge yellow, green, blue, purple and orange mess on the needles shouldn’t be such an attractive sight. He blamed it on Cannoli, who was now lying on his knees, unflustered by the moving hues over his head. 

Ariadne eventually took pity on him and gave him a hand with what kept on tripping him, telling Eames she picked up knitting in college as a stress reliever and that, soon enough, it would be relaxing for him too. Eventually, he started to make slow and painful progress, some kind of striped tube slowing getting shaped by the needles. 

Arthur spent hours trying to guess what the bright garment was, to no avail. He went to great pains to subtly observe and even went as far as looking at the notes Eames left with his work, but couldn’t decipher the mix of _k_ , _p_ , _k2tog_ and _ssk_ symbols scribbled on the paper. In the end, he gave up and pulled Ariadne to the side, voicing his puzzlement.

“Oh! He didn’t tell you? He thought Cannoli needed a little bit of comfort in his old age. He’s making him a sweater.” 

Oh.

Arthur ended up doing what he does best. Two days later, a new box sat on Eames’ sofa, along with a little thank you card. Confusion, then mirth lit up his face when he read it. Transferring the work from his double pointed needles to the brand new circulars, he resumed knitting enthusiastically, throwing a knowing smirk at Arthur.

The job, as well as the sweater, came to an end. While packing up, Eames made his way to Arthur, Cannoli comfortably nuzzled up in his arms, dressed in his very own rainbow turtleneck.

“I’m going to miss the cheeky bugger.”

“I’m pretty sure he’ll miss you too.” To be honest, he was absolutely sure that both of them would pine for this new, considerate Eames.

“Do you think I could…” he stalled for a second, uncharacteristically hesitating. “Do you think I could visit?” Sensing Arthur’s surprise, he added “I could make it worth your while, you know. I have a lot of leftover yarn. How do you feel about matching socks, love?”

And this is how Arthur ended up with a naked conman knitting in his bed.

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration from this fic came from a friend of mine who asked me to knit a sweater for her 15 year-old dachshund to keep him warm during the winter. She argued that, being this old, he needed comfort he could only get from a handmade sweater, knitted with love. [Here’s the pattern](http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/wurstwarmer) I - and incidentally Eames - used.
> 
> Eames ordered the very bright Knit Picks’ Felici Worsted, in [Rainbow](http://d2q9kw5vp0we94.cloudfront.net/Yarn_Color_Detail/27393.jpg).
> 
> Once again, a huge thank you to [kate_the_reader](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader) for being an awesome beta reader!
> 
> Here's a little drawing of Cannoli by the amazing [Somedrunkpirate](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Somedrunkpirate). Thank you!!!  
> 


End file.
